As we get older, it's pretty nice to be noticed for who we are

It's funny how things change over the course of a lifetime.

When I was 25 or 30, it was almost like I didn't want people to acknowledge the fact that I was getting older. If I was in a restaurant or some other place of business that I frequented, and someone called me "Mister Rappaport," I usually corrected them.

"Mister Rappaport is my father. Call me Michael."

It wasn't a unique response or even a particularly clever one. I'll bet 10 million guys have said that at one time or another.

I don't know when it happened that I stopped saying that, or even when I didn't particularly enjoy people a lot younger calling me by my first name, but it happened.

They call me Grandpa.

Certainly by 2008, the year my father died. After that it would have seemed bizarre. Add to it the fact that was the year I found myself involuntarily retired and all of a sudden the only people calling me by my first name were close friends and relatives. I had two people calling me "Dad" and eventually two more who called me "Grandpa Mike."

Maybe the nicest surprise of my life has been how much I love hearing my two wonderful grandchildren call me "Grandpa."

If all goes according to plan, 5-year-old Madison will come visit us for a week this summer, her first solo visit to her grandparents.

"Grandpa" was only a little bit better than the joy I felt for all the years my two kids have called me "Dad."

Another thing that has changed is how I feel when I'm recognized by salespeople in places I visit often. When I was younger, one thing that horrified me was when I would go into a restaurant -- fast-food or slightly nicer -- and the waitress would ask if I wanted my "usual" order.

My reaction to that was deciding I had gotten into a rut and I had better try different restaurants for a while.

But since we moved to Georgia in late 2010, one of the things my wife has truly enjoyed is how friendly people are in stores and restaurants. Today I took her to a doctor's appointment, and the receptionist in a very busy office smiled, called her by name and asked how she was doing.

I have been getting prescriptions filled at the same drugstore chain for 20 years -- the first 16 in California -- but here in Georgia when they see me coming, they greet me by name and ask how I'm doing. It always impresses me.

But the real surprise is at a small local bookstore that I frequent once or twice a month, the friendly sales clerks call me by name. Sure, it's "Mister Rappaport," but it's still a good feeling to be recognized.

Things do change in the course of a lifetime, and not everything about getting older is bad.

Not at all.